


Tricks and Treats

by Silex



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Humor, Post-Apocalypse, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 02:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: Autumn is Red's favorite time of year, it always has and the best part of it is dressing up as terrifyingly as possible to drive ghosts out of the ruins. Of course her gang is too small to do that easily, but recruiting a proper army isn't that difficult if she follows her favorite ritual, one dating back to before the Big Collapse.





	Tricks and Treats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [track_04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/gifts).



> Some Halloween fun for a a Halloween themed exchange.

Red watched as Jasom, who’d always been good with knives and therefore had been assigned pumpkin carving duty this year, went to work.

“Remember, these need to be scary,” she encouraged as he carved a tooth-filled mouth onto one and then stopped to think.

Jasom grunted and stared at the pile of pumpkins that Vitch had already gutted and was busy roasting the seeds of.

“I know you can do it,” Red encouraged.

Another grunt, but then again Jasom had never been that talkative to begin with, even before what happened when the WarWulfs had taken him captive as part of a hostage exchange. Red had the feeling that he still held it against her that her initial offer to trade back for him had been as low as it was.

Instead of carving eyes onto the pumpkin Jasom carved two vertical mouths where they should have been.

“That’s the spirit,” she smiled. Given what he’d been through in the hands of the ‘Wulfs she could understand why that would be scary to him. Satisfied she went to see how the rest of the gang was doing with their preparations for the ritual.

Hester and Ralka were in charge of costumes and had gone all out. Ralka was naked from the waist up, painted with ash and clay in a remarkably accurate depiction of a skeleton. Hester was slightly more subdued in her attire, wearing the carefully tanned pelt of a bear, complete with the head, which she’d stuffed with straw to give the impression of a live animal. The spurs of antler arranged down its head and back had to be Ralka’s doing since she’d always been fond of bones, but Red had to admit the effect was impressive. Several other members of the gang waited patiently to receive wooden and bone masks, and similarly intimidating attire.

Even Berthold, the hulking gray skinned mutant from the desolate lands to the north, was getting in on things, slinging a length of chain over his shoulders and rattling it as he shouted dire threats at no one in particular, practicing for later that night.

This was Red’s favorite time of year, when she and her gang assembled a proper army and ventured into the ruins to drive the ghosts off before the days got any shorter.

Of course an army marched on its stomach and supplies were an important part of the ritual.

“Vitch!” she shouted, “How’s it going with the food?”

“Fine, fine,” the group’s designated cook gave a long suffering sigh, “I just put the honey on the seeds and they need to cool. I had the jam and acorn cookies ready this morning unless sneak-thief got into them already.”

He glared at Ralka who smiled back, revealing berry stained teeth.

“What about the dried figs?” Red demanded.

“They’re safe here,” Vitch pointed to a container that had been wrapped in chain and padlocked shut, “Very safe.”

Ah, he’d caught her there. A shame too, because he knew that she was the one who’d stolen most of them last year, but didn’t dare say anything. Locking them away like that, the key do doubt being among the dozens dangling from the lanyard around his neck, meant that she couldn’t say anything without admitting her intentions in the process.

Very well played on his part.

“I made almond sweets as well. Very tasty,” he smiled beatifically, knowing full well her dislike of nuts in general, but especially almonds.

“Don’t forget your costume,” Hester chimed in, holding up a costume similar to hers, except made from a boar’s pelt. A boar with far too many tusks. Again it had to be Ralka and her belief that bones weren’t just for fortunetelling.

Red took it, and just in time. A procession was making its way towards the camp. There were dozens of them, carrying torches, assorted weapons and dressed just as fiercely as any of her gang were.

“Everyone, get ready!” Red hollered.

The gang members scrambled to take their places, all except Jasom, who was still carving away.

“You too,” she warned him.

Rolling his eyes he picked up good sized pumpkin, cut a hole in the bottom and put it on over his head. Then he picked up one under each arm and took up his position.

He got into place just as the procession arrived.

The leader, a young boy not yet in his teens approached Red, sack in one hand a rough wooden club in the other. His face was painted, though nowhere near as expertly as Ralka’s, to resemble some sort of fearsome beast. Scowling he raised the club and brandished it at Red.

“Trick or Treat!” He demanded.

Red looked at her gang, “What do you say boys? Do we give into their demands? Or do we drive them back into the ruins?”

The rest of the children had arrived and were echoing their leader’s demands.

“Looks like we’re outnumbered,” Vitch smiled, carrying a tray of cookies and dried fruits, “We’d best do what they say.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Red laughed as she adjusted the boar pelt over her shoulders, “Treats it is then! No sense in chasing ghosts on an empty stomach.”

The children cheered and rushed forward to claim their prize.


End file.
